


his typewriter, his shotgun, and his Armani overcoat

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-21
Updated: 2010-03-21
Packaged: 2017-10-10 21:36:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	his typewriter, his shotgun, and his Armani overcoat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [merle_p](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merle_p/gifts).



_September 2010, beginning of Junior Year_

~~~~

Kurt was very close to hitting his locker with the punch of death. School was over for the day, most of the students had already left, and the only reason he was still walking the hallways of McKinley High like the ghost of a Junior past was because the coach had wanted a word on whether he was going to continue in the kicker position for the coming football season.

He didn't want to. He wanted to concentrate on Glee, so that they could win Nationals this year instead of placing fourth, he wanted to spend more time with his boyfriend, he wanted to start looking at colleges so he could get out of this den of loserdom filled with people who had no fashion sense whatsoever.

He didn't want to disappoint his dad, though. His dad was looking forward to seeing Kurt in more football games, scoring the winning points, being carried on his team mates' shoulders. Kurt wasn't opposed to that, either, but the fact that he had to show up to practice was tedious. He could kick a stupid ball; he'd proven that, hadn't he?

And now his locker was stuck and he could not get it to open. Hitting it seemed like a better idea with every passing second. He slapped his hand against it, hoping against hope the lock mechanism would fail so he could get his stuff and leave. "Fuck you," he told it, when it didn't budge. "Who assigned me this locker anyway, why do I always get the broken shit -"

"Good day?" someone asked behind him.

Kurt whirled around, surprised. "Mike! What are you doing here?"

"You should try 'Open Sesame'," Mike teased, ignoring the question. "I hear it helps against closed doors." Then he gently pushed Kurt aside and hit the top right corner of the locker once with practiced force. The door sprang open, revealing the insides of Kurt's locker.

"I hate you," Kurt said.

"You love me," Mike grinned. He didn't let Kurt reach for his math book, instead moving him back until his head bumped against a fellow student's locker. Then Mike descended on his lips, kissing him with enough strength to make Kurt's arms come up, pulling him closer. Mike's tongue sneaked into his mouth, gently curving around Kurt's, their bodies rubbing together. Kurt felt Mike's fingers slip underneath his tiny t-shirt, caressing the skin of his belly before he fitted his thigh between Kurt's and pushed _up_, making Kurt choke on a moan, Mike's tongue still pushing in and out of his mouth.

They parted with a gasp, Mike's lips red and swollen. Kurt stared at him with far less ire than before. "You're right," he said, rubbing his cheeks to get the flush out. "I don't hate you." He shifted, which caused Mike's thigh to once again press hard into his groin, making him shiver.

Mike leaned in for another kiss, this time short and sweet, just a press of lips on lips. "Any chance I can drag you to your bed and do more of this while there's less clothes in the way?" He tugged at Kurt's shirt. "How do you get away wearing stuff like this to school?"

"If by 'this', you mean my perfectly acceptable jeans -"

Mike gave a cough.

"- perfectly acceptable jeans," Kurt said, hitting his shoulder.

"This is not jeans. This is painted on. I also think your Chihuahua wants its shirt back."

Kurt stuck out his tongue. "I don't have a Chihuahua. And I'm really sorry, but there's no way we can make out at my house today." He made a face. "My dad is bringing his we've-gone-out-more-than-five-times _date_ over to introduce her. Can you imagine?"

This, sadly, prompted Mike to take a step back, which relieved the pressure on Kurt's erection, but made the whole conversation so much less interesting. He wanted the talking to stop and go back to the making out. The making out had just turned the day's grade from a C- into a B+.

"Your dad's dating?" Mike asked.

"Yes. Can we go to your place?"

Mike shook his head. "I told you before, we can't. There's no space. And. My parents."

Kurt sighed and turned to his locker. "All right. Well, I guess I have to go home anyway, face the music. He wants me to be on my best behavior for this one."

Mike watched him with careful eyes as he packed up his bag and closed his locker again. He asked, "Has your dad dated before?"

Kurt snorted. "Is that a joke? Of course he's tried. Emphasis on 'tried'. It's never gone past a second meeting with me, any of them." The thought of his dad with his 'girlfriend', while uncomfortable, had at least gotten rid of the problem in his pants.

They walked down the hallway toward the exit. Mike was humming a song Kurt didn't know. Then he suddenly stopped.

"I got you something," he said.

Kurt turned his head in surprise.

Mike's face was red and he wasn't looking at Kurt, instead staring at the little wrapped package in his hands. "I didn't get you flowers, because it's lame and I didn't think you were into that, anyway, but it's our three-month anniversary, and I thought you might like it." He snapped his mouth shut.

Kurt felt his own face flame in return, because it wasn't like he hadn't considered doing exactly the same thing. It was hard to forget the day they'd first kissed, which had been the day of Nationals. It was never going to be hard to remember. He'd noted it – he'd thought Mike wouldn't really care. Mike didn't seem like the sort of guy to remember someone's birthday, never mind this.

"I didn't get you anything," Kurt heard himself say, already planning how fast he could get Amazon to ship a portable playstation to Mike's in order to make a lie of that statement. He took the package, their fingers brushing.

"I don't mind. It's not much; and anyway, I don't want you to buy me stuff just because. Honestly, it just came to me last night, so we really shouldn't make a big deal of it."

"You're a great guy, Mike," Kurt said, reaching up to pull Mike's mouth to his own for another kiss. "Thank you."

Mike's kisses always made his toes curl. They also made him want to find a broom closet right away, screw the rules. And they were over way too soon. Kurt still couldn't believe sometimes he actually had a boyfriend. One who kissed like a movie star and would be perfect for junior prom, because he could dance like a god, and who remembered their three-month anniversary, and if Kurt didn't catch himself soon, he would swoon faintly from all excitement and the quick pace of his heart beat.

"Sorry that we can't... you know."

Mike half-smiled. "It's fine. We can Skype, or whatever you feel up to. You should tell me how the date went, later."

"It'll go splendid," Kurt promised. "I'll be good." At least until the woman arrived. "Do you need a ride?"

"I'm fine," Mike waved. He never needed a ride, but Kurt always asked. He watched Mike make his way towards the bus stop - next bus in twenty minutes, his watch said. But if Mike didn't want a ride, Kurt wouldn't force him. Instead he got in his car and drove towards the afternoon's torture session.

~*~

The afternoon did not go to plan.

Usually, the women his dad went on dates with were copies of the woman Kurt only remembered with the help of photographs. Their long, silky brown hair was a reminder of hers; their cute-looking faces round and ever-smiling, delicate. They were never tall enough to reach his dad's chin. Sometimes, they wore a similar perfume and it creeped Kurt out because he had memories of his mother when he closed his eyes, of being held and kissed. He had memories of his mother pushing him on the swing, her hair drifting around her face in the wind.

Eva was a shock when he saw her. She was black, for one; a little younger than they usually were but less fragile-looking, with short hair barely falling to her shoulders. She didn't smile at him, or pet him, or call him cute and handsome and ask him about his grades and if he wanted to be a movie star some day, with a face like that and his _style_.

She was quiet and careful, and she had a degree in mechanics and physics from the university, and Kurt had no idea what his father was thinking, inviting her home. She didn't take any of his baits. She _ignored_ him, unless he talked, which was when she listened attentively. She had opinions, and they were not the same as theirs - she went to church, for heaven's sake. The Hummels hadn't been in church since the Christmas debacle of 1996, which he didn't remember but was told had been traumatizing for everyone.

Kurt had never been happier for dinner to be over.

"I hate her," he told Mercedes on the phone later, lying on his stomach before he rolled over onto his back, staring at the ceiling above his bed.

"What's wrong with her?" Mercedes asked in a soothing voice, while clacking away on her keyboard, which meant she probably didn't care a whisk about his problems and was looking for good porn instead. "Did she pet your head again? Destroy your carefully designed hair-do?"

"No."

"Did she blather on and on about her life as if to catch you up on everything in the two hours of time you had?"

"No, but -"

"What about the annoying table manners you hate so much. Did she slurp? Lick her spoon? Did she..." Mercedes' voice turned low and dangerous, "scrape her fork over the plate?"

"Oh, shut up," Kurt said, ignoring her teasing. "She's just horrible."

"Want to come over, play on that Wii you got me for my birthday? My brother's the only one playing that thing; it's tragic. You should have gotten me a hairbrush."

"Probably. I can't, though. I have that stupid math test tomorrow, remember? Gotta study. Did you know Mike's been getting straight As in math since like, ever? How unfair is that? He just _gets_ it, he says."

"He probably spends less time in front of a mirror, and more time solving the problems in the book," Mercedes said. "Also, he sucks at History. Maybe you can tutor each other - no. Don't tell me. I don't want to know."

Kurt let out his breath. "Cheer me up," he then said. "Tell me what you're planning to wear to Junior Prom."

"Junior Prom's months away, Kurt," Mercedes said. "And some of us aren't lucky enough to score a hot boyfriend, so it's not like we're looking forward to it anyway."

"Aw, don't be jealous," Kurt said. "We'll find you a date, don't you worry."

"No footballers, Kurt."

"Fine. They're not so bad, though, once you get to know them -"

"No. Footballers."

"All right, all right. I think Jacob's looking for a date - no, don't hang up, don't hang up -"

~*~

The math test didn't go too badly, mainly because since they'd started dating, Mike had been sitting next to Kurt, and Kurt did a mean copy. He was fairly sure he'd get his B, which would prop his end-of-term grade. When he arrived home that afternoon, he went looking to tell his dad, and found him in the garage.

He also found Eva there, lying underneath a van, muttering something about hydraulics and oil pumps, and it was almost like he'd caught them having sex. His dad looked suitably chagrined. Eva just slipped out from beneath the car and looked at him with her eyebrows raised.

"What's she doing here?" Kurt asked his dad.

When his dad opened his mouth, Kurt was prepared to get chastised for being rude, but then he noted the glance they shared, and his dad just sighed, shoulders slumping. "We're spending time together," he said. The warning note in his voice was clear.

Eva gave Kurt a tight little smile and added, "If you're hungry, there are Chinese noodles on the stove."

Kurt narrowed his eyes. "Are you trying to get rid of me?" he asked. He knew he was being ridiculous, but something inside him just wanted to keep pushing until they did something.

"Or you can stay here and give us a hand," she offered, holding out her screwdriver.

Kurt turned to his dad. "Since when does she give the orders?"

He could see his dad was close to boiling over. There was a pulsing vein in his forehead that gave him away whenever he was angry. It didn't need a lot, when one knew the right buttons to push, and over the years, Kurt had become an expert.

"Was there anything you wanted, Kurt?" his dad asked curtly. "We're busy."

Kurt shook his head, throwing up his hands. "I'm going out," he announced, and slammed the door to the garage shut behind him.

It wasn't a thick door, and he stayed for a moment, listening.

"He drives me crazy sometimes, the way he acts," he heard his dad say, voice still tight with emotions.

He was almost sure he heard a note of amusement in Eva's voice when she said, "He's a teenager. He lives to make your life hell. And he doesn't like me very much, which is understandable."

"He used to be fine, whenever I dated before."

"Don't worry. Believe me when I say that playing the pretend-she's-not-in-the-room game is the last thing you have to worry about. He's dealing just fine."

"Got lots of experience with this sort of thing, have you?" his dad asked, and he sounded happier again. There were only murmurs then; Kurt couldn't make out any more words, almost like they were standing close enough to whisper. He hurried up the stairs and into the main house, not wanting to hear any more.

~*~

In over three months, Kurt had never been to Mike's house. In the beginning, he hadn't cared much. He had his own bachelor pad in the basement, which held a huge bed, his walk-in closet, and a bathroom, and that was all a teenage boy needed when having his boyfriend over.

Well, that, and the entertainment system in his living room, but they only ever made use of that when they got tired of making out, which was never.

These days, though, thinking about it made him sad. Mike had explained about his parents not being very open-minded. But that didn't mean Kurt couldn't just visit as Mike's friend. Lately, he'd begun to develop the feeling that Mike might be ashamed of him. He didn't want that. He had been so glad Mike had decided not to hide out at school, pleased that this would allow them to walk around hand-in-hand and sometimes even kiss, if they could find a quiet corner away from the bullies.

He was not happy that Mike was so afraid of coming out at home.

Kurt tended to make light of it, now that it was after the fact, but the truth was, telling his dad had not been easy. None of it had been easy, but it was still _good_. It had been freeing, and it had made him feel happier, in the end. He wanted that, for Mike. He wanted Mike to be happy, and not just because Kurt bought him the most amazing Gucci sunglasses he'd ever seen that made him look like the coolest hipster kid in town.

It was also unfair that Mike should get to meet Kurt's dad when Kurt had never met Mike's family. Kurt wanted Mike to meet his dad, of course he did - he was convinced his dad would love Mike, who was athletic and smart and knew all the right answers to adult questions. He just didn't want it all to become one-sided. He was a little afraid. He was a lot afraid that he had been wrong and it had all been one-sided from the start.

"It's not like I've been sneaking him into my room," Kurt told Brittany as they headed for Glee after classes let out. She had been listening to his rant for ten minutes. She was a good listener, even though she tended to get distracted and he had to get her attention back by waving a glittery unicorn in front of her. "My dad has seen him around, I guess? Not formally, though. For all I know, he thinks Mike's just practicing the dances with me, or working out. Like I do with you guys. I don't sneak you downstairs either."

Brittany shook her head. "But you don't like girls that way, do you?"

"That's what I'm saying."

"So why would you sneak us downstairs?"

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut. "I wouldn't. I don't sneak Mike downstairs, either."

"But you make out with him," Brittany said.

"So?"

"So your dad doesn't know about that part."

"Brittany, you're really not making any sense," Kurt told her, and was glad they'd arrived in the classroom for practice. Rachel was already standing in front of the Glee club, holding up a chart.

"I wonder why people always say that to me," Brittany murmured. She took her spot on one side of Mike. Kurt sat down on the other, and smiled when Mike rubbed his thumb over Kurt's hand, giving him shivers.

~*~

It was raining up a storm when they left school after Glee, and that was the only reason Kurt did what he did. If it hadn't been raining, he would have just let it go, ignored the tickle in the back of his mind that told him something fishy was going on. He would have just driven home.

But as it happened, it rained, and they hadn't had a minute alone with each other in almost a week, so it seemed like the perfect idea to slip into Kurt's car, dry off while their fingers busied themselves finding nooks and crannies between shirts and pants to touch skin. They'd gotten into the back seat with wise foresight and it was now coming in handy as Mike flipped him onto his back and found himself between Kurt's legs, rubbing their erections together as they kissed.

Their bodies were hot in the now moist September air, and the rain was beating against the car incessantly. Kurt moaned whenever Mike snapped his hips forward, promising a special sort of experience once they did go all the way sometime in the near future.

It didn't take long for Mike to come undone above him, pushing his tongue against Kurt's as his body shook in Kurt's hands. The little sounds were Kurt's finish, as was the fact that Mike slid his hand down Kurt's jeans and into his boxer shorts, taking him in his hand. It was rough and just the right pressure to bring Kurt over the edge.

For about ten minutes, they just lay there, sticky and wet and making out, breathing hard against each other. Then Mike sat up. There were tissues, of course. Kurt always kept any and all means of cleanliness close to hand, because even though dumpster episodes were long behind him, you never knew when someone might get you with a rotten tomato. Mike cleaned them both up, helped Kurt to sit up, and then he squinted out through the foggy window and said, "So, I guess I better get home now."

Kurt stopped wiping his hands, and stared. "Don't be stupid, I'm driving you home."

"I can walk."

"The rain's not gonna stop, and you'll be drenched by the time you get on the bus."

Mike shrugged. He pulled his shirt down and grasped for his backpack on the floor of the car. "I'm wet anyway. A little bit more rain won't kill me."

"It's not a problem. You can even drive yourself if you don't want me to drive."

Mike smiled, leaned over and kissed him breathless. "You're cute. But it's not that. Thank you, though."

The car suddenly felt claustrophobic. Kurt tried to hold in the words, but they were bubbling too close to the surface, and he was angry, because there really was no other explanation. "It's not like I'm going to get out of the car," he spat. "You don't have to be afraid I'm going to turn up and embarrass you in front of your family or anything, so if that's what you're worried about, there's really no need."

Mike's eyes had widened. "What?" he said. "No! No, that's not it. I'm not - Kurt, come on, I'm not ashamed of you, I love the way you are. I love everything about you, that you're strong and smart and unique and that you're so much yourself. I would never be ashamed of you."

Kurt flushed, but his anger didn't diminish despite the feeling of pleasure rushing through him. "I don't get it, then," he said. "Why can't I just come with you?"

"Because I don't want you to." Mike touched the bridge of his nose with his thumb gently. "I swear it's not because of anything you've done or are doing."

Kurt clenched his teeth. The happy feeling was dwindling already. "Fine," he said. "Get out."

Mike's eyes turned sad.

"Get out," Kurt told him, and didn't wait for an answer, or a goodbye kiss, just climbed onto the driver's seat, never looking back. There was a short gust of wind and rain into the car, then the door slammed shut and Mike was gone.

That was the moment Kurt decided to screw all rules of trust and faith, he was going to follow Mike home.

~*~

He drove off in a semblance of admitting defeat, but stopped at the road turn further down the bus line. It took a good ten minutes for Mike's school bus to arrive. Kurt waited a few moments after it passed him and then went after it.

The drive took twenty-five minutes, a lot longer than necessary; Kurt didn't know where they were, he hadn't been to this part of the town before, but he was fairly sure they'd driven in circles at least twice. If Mike had let him drive, he could have had him home in fifteen.

He was starting to realize why Mike might have wanted him to stay away, though. There was a reason he didn't know this part of town well. The houses were run-down, half in ruins, the streets were dirty, and his car, shiny clean, barely a year old, stood out like a beacon in the night. The people here weren't dressed in fine Armani suits, there were no businessmen crossing the streets, heading for work. The apartment complexes he passed looked ready to collapse onto themselves. The doors and walls were sprayed with graffiti, and if it hadn't been for the rain, he might have seen further into the back alleys, filled with overflowing dumpsters. People sat around smoking.

He saw Mike get out of the car on the second-to-last stop before the end station, where the bus would turn and head back to the city center. He slowed down, watched which street Mike walked into, then passed it, turned into the next, backed out again and drove. He put the car in park at the street end, and watched Mike's lithe figure jump over a turned garbage bin, bike parts strewn before an apartment block. He locked the doors to his car and prayed that no one would take note of his baby; then he headed for the doors through which Mike had vanished, rain still dripping, but no longer pouring down on him.

It didn't explain everything, but it explained a lot, Kurt thought, biting his lip in guilt. He'd been so quick to judge. If this was where Mike lived, no wonder he didn't want Kurt to visit. Kurt was used to wealth, even in comparison to most of his classmates. Money wasn't flowing quite as freely anymore with the economy being what it was, but they weren't in trouble yet, not by a long shot.

So it hadn't been Kurt's personality that had made it embarrassing to bring him here. Kurt felt a spike of discomfort in his stomach as he rang all the bells in all the apartments, hoping someone would just press the buzzer. It had been Kurt's money that was the problem.

No wonder whenever Mike brought him gifts, it was hand-made chocolates, and burned CD mixes, and Asian food ingredients they could make dinner with at Kurt's place. No wonder he always seemed so uncomfortable when Kurt gave him expensive sunglasses, or that golden bracelet, or the DVD set boxes of Battlestar Galactica Mike had wanted so badly that one time they went window-shopping. He just hadn't _thought_...

The door buzzed open and Kurt pushed inside, ready to apologize. It wasn't fair. He'd behaved like a jerk, but it was also Mike's fault for not trusting him with this. Kurt wasn't a mind-reader, he couldn't _know_ that Mike was living like this.

He scanned the list of tenants, the post boxes, and found two 'Chang's. One on the second floor, one on the fourth. He couldn't imagine how sixteen different post boxes – families maybe – would fit into a four-floor apartment block, unless everyone was living in two-bedroom apartments. And hadn't Mike mentioned a sister once?

Kurt quickly found the apartment door for the first Chang and braced himself. He knew Mike would be angry. And he didn't want to disturb Mike's family, but he needed to apologize and explain that he didn't care, that all he cared about was that Mike was nice, and smart, and that he cared about Kurt, and would never hurt him, which was more than enough, aside from the fact that he was hot as fire and a wonderful person who made Kurt laugh and who wanted to take Kurt to Junior Prom.

An old woman opened the door. She was of Chinese descent, smaller than Kurt, with white hair. She looked like she didn't want to talk to him.

"I'm sorry, can I speak to Mike, please?" he asked politely, trying hard not to glance over her shoulder into her apartment.

"No Mike," the woman said, and slammed the door in his face.

Kurt blinked, then let out a puff of breath and climbed a few more flights of stairs. There were four doors on the last floor as well, and only one didn't hold a name plate. None of the others read Chang. There was no doorbell either, so he knocked.

Mike was out of his t-shirt, naked upper body glistening from the rain still, and his hair was tousled, like he'd run a towel through the spikes. He was wearing sweatpants, hanging low on his hips. Kurt had to force his eyes away and up to his face. He could feel himself blush furiously.

"I'm sorry," he heard himself say on auto-pilot. "I know you didn't want me to know, but I had to know."

Mike's eyes hardened. "Go away, Kurt."

"Please, don't close the door - Mike, come on. Mike."

"Don't talk to me. Don't come back here, ever."

It was the second time he had a door slammed in his face on that day, and it felt no better the second time. Kurt turned around, but then told himself no. He wasn't giving up this easily. He wasn't going to be pushed around, boyfriend or no boyfriend, and he wasn't going to leave here without an explanation of what was going on.

So he went back to the door and started knocking. If Mike had any family, they would soon tell him to get the boy away from the door, or ask him inside, or anything at all except for leaving him standing outside, drenched from the rain, and determined to figure this out.

~*~

Fifteen minutes passed, and nothing moved within the apartment, as far as Kurt could hear. There were no yells for him to knock it off, no voices arguing. The walls weren't thick enough to keep sounds in, especially since he could hear the TV blasting one apartment further down.

He kept knocking.

After ten more minutes, he finally gave up and went home.

He arrived at the front door angry, tired, and looking like a wet dog. He didn't dare to check his reflection in the rearview mirror. He just pulled out his key and barreled inside, immediately stomping downstairs to have a shower, slap some product on, and spend the rest of the day buried under his bed covers, being miserable.

He got as far as his sea salt facial mask when his phone rang. It was just as good as wallowing, he allowed, and picked up. Mercedes greeted him in her usual manner, and said, "Guess what."

Kurt sighed. "I don't have the brain capacity to play guessing games right now," he said. "What is it?"

"I caught Miss P and Mister Shue kissing in her office after Glee today," Mercedes said with unholy glee. "I had to go back, I'd lost my cell phone and went looking for it, and I saw them." Then she sobered. "Do you think Mr. Shue broke up with his wife?"

Kurt shrugged, then remembered that she couldn't see him. "He's been having an emotional affair with Miss Pillsbury for ages. I wouldn't be surprised if she decided to dump his cheating ass."

"Right. But they're so sweet -"

"So were Mike and I," Kurt mumbled, burying his face in his pillow.

"What?" Mercedes sounded taken-aback. "Were? What are you talking about? Did you guys break up? When did that happen?"

"We haven't yet," Kurt said. "But I fucked up today, and I'm angry at him, too, just because he's an idiot, and I don't know. We're not talking."

"He didn't cheat on you, though?"

"What? No! How - why would you even think that?"

"You're the one throwing around words like 'emotional affair'," Mercedes reminded him.

"Not for - no, Mike's not that kind of guy." Kurt sighed. "He's nice, and funny, and he drives me crazy, for real, he never tells me a damn thing, and when I figure it out for myself - did you know Mike's family is poor?"

Mercedes snorted. "What?"

"I know!"

"That's impossible, Kurt," Mercedes said. "His parents might not be rich, but they're pretty well-off people. Not Fabray-rich, but I think his dad owns a restaurant, and opened a second one on the other side of town not that long ago."

"What?" Kurt stared at the phone in confusion. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"But - but what's he doing living in a rathole?"

Mercedes, sounding worried, asked, "Kurt, what's going on?"

Kurt rubbed over the bridge of his nose. "I followed him, today after school."

"Aw, man, Kurt."

"He ditched me again, and I just needed to know. Shut up, I know. I drove after his bus, into the sleazy part of town, really shady corners, and followed him into a building that was shabby and old, and barely managed to stay upright - all right, yes, I'm exaggerating, but it's not exactly suburban utopia. I confronted him, told him I didn't care about money. But he just shut the door in my face."

"You really don't know what the word 'subtle' means do you?" Mercedes sounded exasperated. "You could have waited a few days, watched if something was wrong, maybe prodded a bit. Instead, you choose the bulldozer approach. Typical guy."

"Hey!" Kurt said. "There was nothing bulldozer about this, I was smooth in pursuit -"

"In Armani suit, you mean," Mercedes said. "It's pretty obvious, though, isn't it? What's happening?"

"Yeah."

"You need to talk to him about it tomorrow at school."

"Yes, I will. Can we change the topic now? How's your search for the perfect Junior Prom partner going?"

Mercedes sighed, but let him change the topic. She was a really good friend. Kurt turned onto his side and curled up, listening to her rant about the shortcomings of the male species in general and the dumbness of the McKinley High student body in particular.

~*~

Eva was in the kitchen when he resurfaced from his room that evening to get a cup of tea and make himself a sandwich. The shower was running in the background, which told him where his dad was. He wasn't in any particular mood to deal with her today, so of course she gave him a half-smile and asked, "How was your day?"

"Perfect," Kurt muttered and turned to the water boiler. He snuck a glance at the book in front of her and realized she was doing Sudoku, not crosswords as he'd first thought.

"Was it really, or are you saying that to get me off your back?" Eva said. There was nothing teasing in her voice, and yet, Kurt had the feeling she was making fun of him.

"Rainy September days are my favorites," he said, and then half-bit his tongue. He didn't want to engage. It just happened. He got a slice of bread and slapped cheese on it, closing the fridge with a snap.

"Don't run away just yet," Eva stopped him when he headed for the door. "Please?"

Kurt turned on his heel and gave her a hard look. "Why not?"

"Look - I know you're not in the best mood today, but I wanted to ask you something."

When she didn't get on with it, he lifted his chin and said, "Yes?"

She wasn't afraid to look him in the eye; their gazes locked, and Kurt felt like he was outmatched, though he would never have admitted it. It wasn't anything tangible, it was just there, in the way she looked at him like she wasn't going to take his temper. Kurt hated it. They always took his bitching. Sometimes, they went so far as to apologize to him for causing it. It tended to be funny until it got tiring.

"Do you like your dad happy, Kurt?" she asked, and Kurt sucked in a breath, because she _did not_.

"No," he said, voice sharp as he could muster, mocking her. "All I care about is myself. And my manicures, of course."

"Just checking," she said with a little shrug. "I like your dad happy. Your dad's happy when you're happy. So." She motioned between them with her hand, "If this, you and I, if this is going to be a problem?" She shrugged again, her mouth turning down at the corners. "If it is a big enough problem to make you unhappy? Then I might as well spare myself some heartache."

Kurt narrowed his eyes. "Don't try to manipulate me."

Eva huffed. It looked funny on her, and sort of pretty, and Kurt could see for a second what his dad saw in her. "I'm laying my cards on the table, Kurt," she said. "I know my place in the hierarchy here. So let me know sometime soon, will you?" She got up from her seat, taking her book.

Kurt was about to reply when the key clinked in the bathroom lock, and he heard his dad step out, wandering down the hallway towards them. Kurt gave Eva a long, considering look and turned to leave. He was still holding the sandwich, but he wasn't hungry anymore.

"You going to bed, son?" his dad asked when they passed each other. He ruffled Kurt's hair, smiling. He looked happy, and it made Kurt's stomach ache.

"Soon," he said in reply. "I'm going to practice our new Glee song first."

"Don't stay up too late, you hear me?"

"Yes, dad, I hear you."

"Eva and I are going out, meeting up with the guys and their wives, so don't wait up for us to get back." His dad gave him a nod. "You guys talk a bit? Saw you coming from the kitchen."

"Yeah," Kurt said. "We talked."

"Good, good." His dad looked so relieved that Kurt felt his heart squeeze with conscience. "I was hoping you would."

"We're fine, dad," Kurt heard himself say. "Have fun tonight, okay?" He didn't wait for an answer, just hurried towards the stairs, and down, and he spent the rest of the evening with his Sing Star software, belting out the high notes as they came, feeling only slightly better when he hit most of them.

~*~

Mike wasn't waiting at Kurt's locker the next morning; this was unusual since Mike had waited there every day since school started back up after the summer break to walk Kurt to class, or sometimes to just exchange a quick kiss in an yet-empty classroom.

Rachel was waiting for him instead, wielding her cell phone like a sword.

"What's wrong with Mike?" she asked, when Kurt hoisted his backpack over his shoulder. Her phone barely missed his nose as it flew past. "He texted me. He's not coming to Glee this afternoon, which is a disaster; we were supposed to practice those new steps he's written for our new performance sets. Regionals is only two months away, so at this rate, we will have to dumb down the dancing parts because some people in Glee will be unable to learn the steps in the appointed time, which keeps shrinking with every day we're not practicing ; and if we have to dumb down the dancing parts, we will never win Nationals, and if Mike ditching Glee has something to do with your romantic entanglements, I am going to blame _you_, Kurt."

"It's not like Mike's his own person or anything," Kurt said, slamming his locker shut, making her jump.

"He can be his own planet, for all I care," Rachel called after him as he started walking towards his classroom. "Just make him show up, or he's getting dumped."

~*~

Kurt caught Mike after math. It was a maneuver to keep him from vanishing between the other students and taking off without a glance at Kurt, but Kurt managed it. He wasn't very subtle about it, which probably meant the rest of the school would be aware of their fighting by lunch break. He sort of didn't care in that particular moment.

Kurt dragged Mike off by his wrist, glaring at people left and right, and finally pulled him into the girls' bathroom, locking the door by way of shoving a stool underneath the handle.

"We're in the girls' toilet," Mike said, taking in the decor with interest.

"Why are you ignoring me?" Kurt asked, dropping his backpack so he could grasp Mike's arms and push him back until he was pressed against the sinks.

"I wish you would stop that," Mike said, looking sad.

Mike never looked sad. It broke Kurt's heart a little. Still, it wasn't going to deter him from his goal, which was to ensure they survived this one, to live happily ever after. If he had to pick a new date to Junior Prom, he was going to cut a bitch. Kurt rose to his full height. He put his hands on his hips and said, "No."

Mike quirked a smile. "I'm going to have to call the cops on you for stalking," he joked, even though it fell a little flat.

Kurt jutted out his hip. "If you call the police on me, I can promise you, you are never tapping _this_ ass again." It wasn't their usual banter, but it was close. Kurt took a deep breath. This wasn't so bad.

Then Mike sighed. He looked tired as he rubbed his eyes. "Why do you have to make everything so complicated?" he said. "We were just fine, before. Why wasn't that enough?"

"I just needed to know," Kurt said. "You didn't tell me anything about your home life. I know what it's like thinking your parents won't accept you, but maybe if you just tried -"

Mike snorted. "You don't know a single thing about me."

"That's why I'm here!" Kurt threw up his hands, at a loss. He kept his voice down when he said, "I love that you're my boyfriend, I like you, _a lot_, and I want to know things about you. How is that a surprise?" Kurt gave up. Fuck subtlety, Mercedes might be right, but he'd never been one for nuance unless it was in outfitting. He was who he was. "Are you living on your own?" he asked straight-out.

Mike watched him for a long moment, then his shoulders dropped. "Fine," he said. "You're not going to let this drop, so whatever." He avoided Kurt's eyes. "I'm living by myself, yeah. I swear if you tell anyone, I'm going to kick your ass worse than the football team ever has."

"You don't mean that," Kurt said.

Mike's cheeks flushed. "I mean it," he lied. "So just let it go. Don't talk about it with anyone. You have no idea what kind of trouble I'll get in if anyone finds out about it."

"You don't have to do this all by yourself. If you're in trouble somehow, I could help -"

"Fuck off," Mike said, and this time, there was real bite in his voice, not the helpless scrambling for a threat from before. "I don't need your pity."

"It's not pity."

"See, that's exactly what I wanted to avoid. Before, you bought me stuff because you thought I'd like it, or because you liked it and wanted to buy it - now, it's going to be because you've got money, and I don't, and you'll want to help poor Mike out, but guess what. I'm not a whore." Mike shoved past him with the last word, harder than necessary, and kicked the stool out of the way, vanishing out into the hallway, leaving Kurt behind.

Kurt watched him go, confused and hurt and angry, because that was not what he'd meant, and Mike was being so stupid about everything. "Why are boys so _dumb_?" he asked in the general direction of the stalls.

"I dunno," a voice came from them, then water flushing, and Kurt jumped when Brittany walked out of the stall, flattening her Cheerio uniform back into shape as she leaned over the sink to wash her hands. "Boys are just different."

"Thanks, Brittany," Kurt said, wanting to pound his head against the wall.

"I think Mike wants to prove to his parents that he can do it on his own," she continued, turning off the water. "At least that's what he said." She shrugged. "Don't ask me, I've been doing it on my own since I was six."

Kurt stared after her, mouth open, pretty sure he'd missed something there, but equally certain he did not want to know what. He wasn't going to ask.

~*~

The thing with boys like Mike was that Kurt had no idea how they thought. There was no question that they thought differently than Kurt - if they hadn't, they would have better taste in clothing and find skin-care as well as musicals far more important than they did.

So in the end, he picked the only logical course of action: he went to Puck.

"Why didn't you go to Finn?" was the first thing Puck asked, with his face scrunched up like he didn't quite know whether to be disgusted or flattered.

"Finn's good for all sorts of emotional support," Kurt said. "But believe me, listening to him explain something is like slowly losing brain cells to SNL."

Puck came to a halt. "Fair point."

"It's not like I'm asking you about the finer points of gay sex," Kurt added.

"And you've lost me again," Puck said, moving on.

"No, wait, I was kidding. You can teach me all about gay sex if you want."

Puck kept up the scowl for one more second before his expression turned into light satisfaction. "Damn right I could teach you lots about gay sex."

"Sadly, not today," Kurt quickly reigned the conversation back in. "Today, I need to know how to deal with Mike."

"Right." Puck banged into the locker by his shoulder when he leaned back. "Mike." He made a face like he was thinking, then rolled his eyes. "How the fuck would I know what Mike's thinking?"

"He's one of you - one of you, you tall, strong, muscular football guys!" Kurt pointed out. "You should have at least an idea."

"He also apparently knows what a prostate is," Puck said. "So no. Not really."

Kurt groaned. "Any chance you'd take Mercedes to Junior Prom?" he asked in a last-ditch attempt.

Puck hit his back, laughing, and walked off, leaving Kurt wheezing for air.

~*~

So they didn't talk. The weekend was Eva-free, which gave Kurt some time to unwind from his strenuous activities during the week and re-group. It felt good to spend the afternoon with just his dad, making dinner while his dad read the newspaper, drank coffee, and later on, watching TV together while they snacked on their pizzas.

Kurt did not normally enjoy football on TV, but they'd made a deal a long time ago in order to have bonding time: Kurt would suffer through three or four hours of men in tights tackling each other into the greenery if his dad allowed weekly Project Runway and ANTM parties to happen, preferably with Kurt's girlfriends coming over to watch, but sometimes just the two of them and fruity virgin drinks.

Funnily, his dad seemed to really enjoy himself on those TV dates, so Kurt always thought he should have gone with Queer as Folk; at least that would have made him squirm. On the other hand, he certainly wasn't dropping the drinks anytime soon. He loved his "Afterglow" far too much for that.

It wasn't all that different this afternoon, as his dad had switched on the TV and made himself comfortable on the couch, holding out for the coffee Kurt handed him before he settled down himself with a latte and a bowl of cookies.

The game was ten minutes going when his dad, without turning his head or in any way indicating he was looking away from the game, said, "So when's your lad coming over to watch with us?"

Kurt, who'd just bitten off a piece of the cookie, choked. It took him a few seconds to swallow and follow up the sudden dryness of his mouth with a gulp of hot drink - burning his tongue in the process. He hissed. "What?"

"The kid you're dating, you know, taller, football uniform, Asian."

"He's - yeah. But we're not - I mean. I didn't." Kurt cleared his throat and fought for the poise he usually carried himself with that he seemed to have conveniently forgotten in his drawer today. Maybe he should go and fetch it...

His dad glanced his way and back to TV. There was a little smile on his face.

"I meant - we're sort of dating. We were. Dating. But now he's mad at me, so. Maybe we're broken up."

"Did he tell you you're broken up?"

Kurt shook his head.

"Then you're not broken up." His dad grabbed his beer and took a swallow before he put it back next to his coffee. "What did you do?"

Kurt pouted. "What makes you think it was me who did something?"

"What did _he_ do?" His dad leaned forward, following a pass the quarterback had thrown with immaculate precision. Someone got tackled. He leaned back again.

"He made me promise not to tell, but - I mean. He's living on his own, I don't know why, in a rundown apartment far off the good parts of town, and he lied about it the whole time we were together. Uh. Not that we were. I meant. The whole time we were dating." Kurt picked at the hem of his t-shirt. "That's despicable, right? Lying, not telling stuff?"

"Sure," his dad said. "Why'd he do it?"

Kurt shrugged. "Pretty sure it's illegal for him to be living on his own," he mumbled.

"So why's he mad at you? You tell anyone, get him in trouble?"

"No, I didn't tell anyone but you. And Mercedes. And I guess Brittany now knows - oh my." Kurt sunk into himself, realizing suddenly why Mike had kept it a secret.

His dad snorted. "Look, it's kicker-time. Watch it so that you'll know how to do a better job next time you play for the team -"

"Yeah, yeah." Kurt rubbed his nose and tried not to be too hard on himself. He hadn't _told_ Brittany, after all. "I know how to kick a ball, dad."

"Good advice never hurt anyone."

"I know, I know. Thanks, dad."

"Good coffee, son."

"Thanks, dad."

~*~

Monday, Kurt pulled Brittany aside before Glee club, with the rest of the students slowly trickling into the auditorium. Mike was already inside, showing Mercedes and Matt some steps, and he could see Finn and Puck off on another side, arguing. A new attempt, Kurt thought wryly, by Puck to get his best friend back. Quinn wasn't there yet, or she'd have broken them up, by way of baby if she had to.

"Promise me something," Kurt said.

Brittany held up her hand. "Scout's honor."

"Great. What you heard in the girls' bathroom, when Mike and me had that fight, do you remember that?"

Brittany made a thoughtful face. "Which time was that?"

"We only had a fight in the girls' bathroom once, Brittany."

Brittany opened her mouth, closed it again. "Ah," she then said. "Oh, I see!" Her forehead creased.

"Especially the part about Mike living on his own?"

Brittany's face cleared. "Oh! I remember! He said he wasn't a whore, which is ridiculous because he's way too smart to end up having sex for money, he could just tutor people with his smarts. I could be a whore, though, if I ever needed the money. Right?"

Kurt grimaced. "About the living alone thing, though."

"What about that?"

"Don't tell anyone about it. It's a secret, all right?"

Rachel behind him suddenly cleared her throat, poking his shoulder, and made him jump a whole foot into the air. She put her hands on her hips and turned to Brittany. "What secret?"

"The secret about how Mike's living on his own now because he wants his parents to realize he can do it," Brittany explained. "But I'm not supposed to tell anyone about it, so." She waved, turned on her heel and entered the auditorium with a swagger.

Kurt groaned, burying his face in his hands.

"That's not legal, is it?" Rachel said.

"It's a secret, Rachel," Kurt said. "What part of secret don't you understand?"

"The part where Brittany knows about it, which means the rest of the school will soon follow," Rachel said, her eyebrows moving up towards her hairline. "You know, my dads could help with that."

"What could they possibly do about the whole school finding out abut Mike's secret, if they haven't been able to keep you from getting slushies thrown in your face regularly?"

"Not about that," Rachel said, waving his disbelief off. "I meant, about Mike. One of my dads is a lawyer - all Mike needs are emancipation documents, so he can legally live by himself; it would depend on whether he chose to leave home or his parents kicked him out, god, that would be so sad, poor Mike."

Kurt stared at her. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"And you dad would be willing to help?" He bit his lip. "I guess he'll require a fee though, and Mike's not so happy with me right now anyway, and I can't imagine his reaction if I paid that."

"Nonsense," Rachel said. "Of course it would be free, come on. You guys are my friends. And anyway, if I tell him Mike's gay, he'll be thrilled, he has that side-project running with my other dad about helping out homeless gay kids all over the country. My other dad's a real-estate agent, you see, so they work with social services -"

"I get it," Kurt interrupted her. "I get it; your parents are awesome, can you maybe, just. Can we pretend like you did not overhear this from Brittany? Can we say that you figured it out on your own, just like you did with Quinn? Please? I'll talk to Brittany, maybe we can keep it confined. He doesn't have to know."

Rachel's eyes softened. "Yeah," she said. "Of course. Are you guys fighting still?"

Kurt stubbed his toe on the door. "Sort of. What about you and Finn?"

"Working up towards a successful union of our souls and minds," Rachel told him. Then her eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to snag him again, now that you're in trouble with Mike? Because that would be low."

"I'm fine," Kurt told her, half-smiling and didn't feel the need to make her sweat for it at all (almost). "I just want Mike back."

"Aw," Rachel said. "In my own interest, I'll do my best."

Kurt snorted. "That's the Rachel I know."

They walked into the auditorium together, and Kurt saw both Finn and Puck turn to watch them enter, but Mike never stopped or looked up from his teaching steps to Mercedes, and Kurt felt his stomach grow heavy with hurt.

~*~

Kurt was drawn tight as a bowstring all through Glee practice, and Mr. Shue asked if everything was all right twice before he gave up and just gave Kurt a free pass for the afternoon. Kurt heard himself miss notes left and right, wincing at every turn, and just let it go in the end, giving Artie his turn to shine instead. He couldn't have embarrassed himself more if he'd tried, including that one high-F fiasco he wasn't going to mention.

He thought he'd seen Mike glance over once or twice, but he never caught him at it, and every time he looked at Mike head-on, Mike was always looking somewhere else, so maybe he had imagined it after all.

After the session was over, he made his escape quickly, heading towards his car with Mercedes, leaving Rachel to work her magic on Mike. He hoped her attempt to help would go over better than his had.

"What's going on?" Mercedes asked him as they walked, watching him closely. "You were a mess in there. Don't tell me my boy's losing his thing over a little spat with his boyfriend."

Kurt shook his head, then nodded, then shook his head again. He glanced at her. "Your family doesn't have loads of money, do they?" he asked carefully.

"No, but we do okay. So what?"

"So is it a big deal when I buy you presents?"

"Like that Wii you got me? Yeah. Because I never use it. Though if you asked my brother, he would deny everything. He is married to that machine, we're calling it Mrs David Jones at this point. In general, though, no. I don't mind." Then she reconsidered. "I will never forgive you for getting me that Pride&amp;Prejudice DVD set though. Because I know you just wanted it for yourself and you made me sit through _six hours_ of white girls pining after douchebags."

Kurt squinted. "I'm not sorry about that. It was for a good cause."

"Yeah, curing your Finn-related heartache with Jane Austen ranks right up there with our bake sale for charity." Mercedes stopped him by catching his arm. "What's going on, Kurt?"

"Mike exploded at me for following him to his apartment, and I think he's right to be mad at me, because since I found out, four - five more people have become involved, and the number's probably rising by the minute, now that Brittany and Rachel are in on it, and I feel like Puck might have an idea what's going on, and you, and my dad, which means he might have told Eva, and can you see how this is snowballing out of hand?"

"Yeah. Makes sense that he's mad about that."

"Christ, thanks."

"And what does that have to do with the presents again?"

Kurt mumbled something under his breath.

"What?"

"I said, he told me he wasn't going to be a whore."

Mercedes's eyebrows went up. Then she started grinning. "Never took Chang for such a drama-queen," she said. She gave a sigh. "Look, would you stop overreacting just because you're thinking with your dick? He overreacted, he's probably embarrassed about it by now if I know Mike at all, and if you would just go to his apartment, tell him you like him just the way he is; you're going to be fine. I swear, sometimes you almost act like a straight boy."

"Hey," Kurt said. "I resent that."

Mercedes thumped his back. "Today."

"I can't, today," Kurt said. "Eva's making dinner." He made a gagging sound.

"And stop that," she said. "Your dad likes her. Just give it a chance."

~*~

Fine, so maybe Eva wasn't all bad. It could have been worse. His dad could have started dating someone like Sue Sylvester. Or someone like Miss Pillsbury. Kurt liked Miss P fine, but he did not want anyone like that near him. One person with a cleaning compulsion was more than enough per household.

Eva made a good low-fat dessert, her laugh was nice, and she wasn't giggling all the time. Plus, the two of them looked sort of... peaceful, when Kurt saw them sitting on the couch in the evening, with her leaning against his dad's chest, his dad's fingers stroking her hair.

Kurt watched them from the doorway for a few seconds before quietly moving towards the stairs to go back to his room without interrupting them.

The next morning, he didn't see them when he got ready for breakfast, but he did find a plate of still-warm waffles with strawberries on the side, and the coffee maker on 'go'; he wavered for half a minute whether to accept the gesture or ignore it, then sat down and thought, whatever. He couldn't win every battle.

~*~

Rachel caught him after school the next day. She looked thoroughly pleased with herself, which made Kurt un-tense in relief. It meant something had gone well.

"You're an idiot," she told him. "He misses you, and he thinks you don't want to be with him anymore."

Kurt felt his cheeks burn. "Of course I want to be with him," he said.

"So you're both dumb, what's new?" She grinned. Then she sobered. "He doesn't want to do the emancipation procedure, though. Which I can understand, seeing as it entails your family cutting you off, preferably forever. I don't know who'd ever do such a thing to their child, it's really cruel. I still got my daddy to look into possible apartments, though, in a safer area and so on. Mike doesn't know about that yet, but I'll make him move in by force once I have definite answers."

Kurt didn't doubt that. "Thanks, Rachel," he said, and it was really heartfelt this time. "You didn't have to do all that."

Her expression softened. "Of course I did. You're my gays, right?" She shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "Uh... Hug?" She held up her arms a little.

Kurt hesitated, but just for a second, before he nodded curtly and moved in, allowing her a squeeze.

~*~

He went home and spent two hours putting together a mix CD of the likes Mike gave him whenever he felt Kurt needed to upgrade his collection; of course, Kurt's had a different feel to it than Mike's, seeing as 'On my Own' was not exactly Dance, and he had no idea whether Mike even knew who Donna Summer was, (though at least, that _was_ danceable).

Then he got into his car and drove.

The neighborhood hadn't changed in the week he hadn't been there, nor had the shabbiness of the apartment building Mike lived in. Kurt fought down his instinctive gut reaction that told him to slam everything from the décor to the way the stairs were littered, or the crappy security system on the doors. He wasn't here for that; he was here for Mike.

Mike opened the door on second knock, surprise coloring his face when he realized it was Kurt.

"Don't close the door in my face," Kurt said. "Please."

Mike shook his head. "I won't."

"Thanks." Kurt swallowed. "I wanted to apologize - look, I brought you a gift." He held out the CD. He could have sworn he saw the faint trace of a blush on Mike's face as he took it.

"I'm sorry about what I said back then, too," Mike said. "I was mad at you."

"It's okay. I figured. Can I - can I come in?"

"Oh. Sure." Mike bit his lip and left the door open, walking back into the apartment.

Kurt closed the door behind himself as he stepped inside and followed. There was one door on the right-hand side of the hallway, leading into a tiny-looking bathroom. At the end of the hallway was a single room. It held a mattress on the floor with a miniature TV next to it, a closet, and in the corner a kitchen counter with a microwave and a water boiler. That was all. Kurt blinked.

"You can see why I never let you come over," Mike said wryly. "It's not exactly what you're used to."

"So?" Kurt turned to him and held his gaze. "It's not the place I care about, it's you."

"Can't blame me for assuming a bit of superficiality on your part, considering," Mike said without any judgment in his voice at all, which made it easier to bear.

"No, I guess not," Kurt admitted, and tugged at the hem of his t-shirt hoodie from Voi Jeans. He'd already taken care to dress down for this occasion, but apparently Mike wasn't fooled. "I do, though."

"Do what?"

"Care about you." Kurt snuck a glance at Mike, and this time he wasn't imagining the flush.

"That's really good," Mike said. "'cause I care about you, too."

Kurt's heart did a little flip in his chest when Mike smiled, and before he could stop himself he was already pressed up against him, pressing their lips together. It was just a small kiss, but Mike didn't push him away, and it felt good; it made some of the anxiety fall away from Kurt's mind.

Mike's hands rubbed over his back soothingly and turned the kiss into more of a hug, with his face against Kurt's neck, Kurt's nose against Mike's shoulder.

"I really am sorry that it all got out of hand," Kurt admitted a few minutes later, when they'd parted and sat down on the mattress, close enough to touch, but not close enough for the conversation to get diverted by other things. "I didn't realize that people knowing would get you in trouble."

"Did Rachel tell you that?"

"Yeah. And my dad made me realize, when I bitched at him about you." He made a face. "You'll have to come home with me really soon, now. He wants to meet you."

"What about your dad's date?" Mike asked. "Did that ever work out? I've been out of the loop."

Kurt nodded. "Sort of working out, I guess. They're spending loads of time together when they're not both at work. In the evenings, you know. She drops by to cook for us, which is further than any of the others ever got, I think, aside from maybe Bethany a few years ago. She's not bugging me about stuff, at least, which I appreciate."

Mike smiled. "She's not trying to be your mom? I'm surprised."

"Shut up." Kurt let his thumb rub over Mike's wrist. "What about your mom?" he finally asked.

"What about her?"

"You have parents, right? That wasn't a lie?"

Mike snorted. "No, Kurt, the stork dropped me into my landlord's lap at fourteen, and I've been holding my own ever since." When Kurt gave him a deadly look, he said, "Yes, I have parents."

"What happened?" Then he corrected himself, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I would like if you did, though."

"It's fine. I – it was just. I, uh, I figured I should tell them, when I realized I was more into you than girls, back in freshman year -"

"Wait, what?" Kurt said. "Freshman year? How did this happen? We only got together end of sophomore year!"

Mike shrugged. "So? I can't have crushes?"

"Yeah, of course, but - not on me!" Kurt's hold on Mike's wrist had become tight enough to hurt, and he let loose again. "I mean. Why didn't you say anything?"

"You didn't seem sure yet," Mike said. "I mean, you always knew who you were about that," he waved at Kurt's outfit, "But sexuality's a funny thing. I didn't want to make the mistake of assuming just from looking at you; I get why Mercedes asked you out. These days, who knows, right? I think Puck's gay, and he's _straight_, you know what I mean?"

Kurt smiled. "I know what you mean. I also think the term you're looking for is -"

"Bisexual?"

"I wanted to say 'slut', for Puck specifically, but I guess bi works for him, too," Kurt's smile grew into a grin. "I need Mercedes to seduce him. They've been hating each other's guts for too long, there has to be some mutual attraction in there somewhere." Then he sobered. "But, about your parents. You told them you're gay? In freshman year?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, I figured out I liked boys, so I thought, before my mom starts needling me about finding a nice girl to settle down with, I'd clear that one up." Mike's eyes turned sad. "Didn't go as smoothly as I thought it would. At least my sister still loves me."

"Aw, man." Kurt leaned over and gave him a hug, even with Mike tense next to him. "I'm so sorry."

"Yeah." Mike shrugged. "Me, too."

"Maybe we could go over sometime anyway," Kurt tried, a few minutes later when Mike had relaxed again and was leaning into him more readily, accepting the embrace. "Maybe if they realize it's not just a phase of... of rebellion or something, that you have a boyfriend, maybe that would help?"

Mike shrugged again. "Maybe. I don't think it will, but. Yeah. We could." He turned to Kurt and rubbed his nose against Kurt's cheek, kissing the corner of his mouth. "I mean, what's the worst that can happen, right?"

"Right," Kurt nodded, smiling into the kiss. "And you'll have _me_ with you. I make a superb first impression on parents, if I do say so myself."

Mike cracked a smile finally, too. "You're a regular casanova, aren't you, getting to meet parents left and right."

"That's me," Kurt said. "Curses, you've found me out."

"Let's not talk about our parents anymore," Mike said. "Since you're here now, and we _are_ undisturbed -" He pushed Kurt back onto the mattress, climbing on top of him to kiss his mouth again.

"Distracting me," Kurt mumbled into his mouth. "Good plan. Always works."

"I know." Mike's smile was wide again, like he was close to bursting out with laughter, and Kurt's body flooded with pleasure at the sight. "It's my master plan."

"I'll be immune, in time," Kurt warned. "Just you wait."

"But until then," Mike said, and started working on his belt, at the same time nicking the soft skin under his jaw with his teeth. "This."

Kurt gave in and started pulling Mike's shirt up over his stomach so his hands could cover planes of smooth skin. Later, he reminded himself. Later, he was taking Mike home so he could meet his dad, and maybe they could figure something out for the situation at hand. Rachel would help. And Mercedes, and Brittany, and probably Puck, and Finn.

Mike covered his mouth, moving between his legs, pushing their hips together, distracting him again. It really did work every time, Kurt wondered, and then he didn't wonder anything anymore, because he was indeed suitably distracted.

~*~

_~~ written March 2010_


End file.
